


A Different Path

by Zirakinbar



Series: Star Wars & Star Wars Related Oneshots [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jedi-free, Post-Battle of Naboo, Young Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zirakinbar/pseuds/Zirakinbar
Summary: In which a few days can make all the difference. After the Battle of Naboo, it takes a little longer than expected for representatives from the Jedi Council to arrive – and that time is all that Anakin needs to find a different path forward.
Series: Star Wars & Star Wars Related Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916962
Comments: 10
Kudos: 240





	A Different Path

Anakin was bored. They hadn’t had much to do since the great battle, the Naboo busy picking up the pieces of their capital and Padmé had been deeply embroiled in any number of political crises that had to be dealt with _right then_. Obi-Wan had secluded himself in meditation, saying something about funeral rites of Qui-Gon’s people and Anakin had – well, he’d been more or less left to himself. He’d therefore been more than fair game for Dormé to spot him one evening, loitering around the starfighters (he’d just wanted a _look_! He’d piloted one of them, so how much damage could he really do to it?) and snatch him up to bundle him into what had to be the fanciest clothes he’d ever _seen,_ let alone worn.

“You should come to the tonight’s event,” she’d said firmly as he tried to squirm away from the firm grasp she had on his ear. “The Queen will need some of the external support she rallied to be visible so that people remember that _she_ was the one who ensured our victory.”

“No one’s going to care about me!” Anakin had protested, but Obi-Wan was apparently not to be disturbed and the Gungans had already been roped into attending, so Anakin was required to be a symbol of the great efforts Padmé had made to bring safety to her people. A niggling sense had told him that Padmé was not quite aware of her handmaidens’ machinations, but he hadn’t dared to mention this.

Thus Anakin had been present at a fancy bonfire and fancy lights and fancy speeches and now he was at a fancy party with food that he wasn’t entirely convinced was real food and drinks that his mother would have been furious at him drinking. Padmé had spared a few moments to speak to him before the swarm of her people had pulled her away to fill her ears with any number of complaints and calls for reparation. He’d filled another half an hour gawping at the clothes of the people crowded into the auditorium (one woman had hover-droids floating behind her to hold up _fifteen different capes_ trailing from her shoulder pads. Another man had a headdress which sent sprays of liquid out every few seconds that froze into delicate crystal wings before melting away again. Padmé looked almost austere against this background). Another fifteen minutes had been spent watching the smiles of a twittering set of Naboo wealthy grow increasingly fixed as they tried to hold a conversation with a deeply unimpressed-looking Boss Nass. Now, he was back to being bored.

He aimed a glower at Dormé’s back and the look she slanted at him reminded him of nothing more than Old Deri’vajl ‘ _behave’_ face. He managed to stop his lip from pushing out too far and turned to skulk near the buffet instead. It might not resemble any food that he’d ever seen, but his mother had taught him better than to turn down an opportunity to eat. He stuffed a little starship-shaped piece of something into his mouth and chewed a few times. It tasted a bit like womp-rat and a bit like stars sparkling on his tongue. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing another one.

There were three beings close to him, picking over their own selection of the food – two men and a giant, unfeathered winged creature that Anakin took a few moments to identify as a Vor. The younger of the two men, dark haired and dark eyed and clad in the same slickly dark colours as Anakin himself was talking rapidly. The older, a man of white bushy eyebrows and little else distinctive, seemed to have less than half an ear open as he carefully filled his plate.

“It’s a shame that one of my own protocol droids isn’t here,” the young man was claiming, “I’ve a new model – one of my own design _of course_ – that can speak over fifty thousand languages at a moment’s notice! All of Commissar Tevri-Shen’s, ah, _communication difficulties_ might be overcome in a heartbeat.”

The Vor chirruped something that Anakin suspected was vaguely derogatory, but the man didn’t seem to notice. The being rustled their wings noisily, before cocking their head at Anakin as if sharing a joke.

“Fifty thousand languages is hardly a big deal,” Anakin said flatly. “I programmed Threepio to speak five _million_ different languages. _And_ he didn’t have to connect to external servers to process them.”

There was a long, frozen silence, before the younger of the three made a scoffing sound. “If you’re going to lie, boy, you’d be best placed to avoid the impossible.”

Anakin scowled up at him. “I’m not a liar!” he snapped.

“Five million languages – in a _portable_ droid?” The man shook his head condescendingly. “Perhaps, gentle beings, we might like to relocate to somewhere where the children are not left to run amok?”

The other two didn’t respond, the Vor – Tevri-Shen – letting their eyelids flutter down to cover their deep, pupil-less eyes in thought. After a moment, they hummed a question to its companion who hummed back thoughtfully. “Indeed, my friend,” the old human said in a slow, measured fashion. He arched one eyebrow and Anakin found himself briefly fascinated at how it dominated his entire face.

“You were the young gentleman that found himself caught up in the recent battle?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said firmly, reminding himself that he had every right to speak freely now. “I flew an N-1 starfighter and I destroyed the control ship.”

There was a sigh and obviously rolled eyes. “Of _course_ you did,” the dark-haired human muttered. Tevri-Shen murmured something that sounded like a short cascade of bells, and the old man raised a hand.

“We’ll certainly consider your proposal Oneev Adara,” he said firmly. An eyebrow wiggled meaningfully in the direction of another part of the room. Oneev Adara stared at it for a long moment. The old man frowned a little and then wiggled it again deliberately.

“I – yes, of course,” Oneev Adara stuttered after a moment. “Perhaps we might speak again – tomorrow? Next week?”

“We’ll consider it,” he was told cheerfully and he took a few more moments to hover expectantly for a commitment that was not forthcoming. Anakin didn’t feel bad in the slightest as they all watched him slink away to another corner of the room.

Tevri-Shen trilled lightly and Anakin blinked up at them. The Vor folded their wings back in satisfaction.

“Now then, young man,” the old man said. “You must have a name?”

“Anakin. Anakin Skywalker,” he said, bracing his shoulders ready for commentary on the clear slave name. It took him a moment to realise that none would be coming.

“Young Anakin,” the man nodded in satisfaction. “And I am Dovra Dinshari and of course, this is my business partner, Tevri-Shen.”

Anakin nodded uncertainly to the both of them. Now that he didn’t have the unpleasant presence of Oneev Adara to poke at, he found himself a little lost for words. Everyone here was- well, they were certainly no slaves with the casual confidence they all exuded. Dovra Dinshari’s eyebrows wiggled at him confidingly and he bit back a smile.

“So, tell me – was the five million languages an exaggeration to offend our young Master Adara, or have you done something quite remarkable my young friend?”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Anakin said. Dovra didn’t look disbelieving and that bolstered him further. “I mean, sure, there were limits on the processors, but-“ and he looked around for datapad, only to be proffered one by an encouraging-looking Tevri-Shen. Anakin beamed up at them and in a few moments had sketched out a couple of components. “It’s just the connectors – you just need to, you see-”

Tevri-Shen dropped one of their brittle talons onto the screen to make a few changes and Anakin beamed. “I thought that too! But that just leads to overload on the-”

Tevri-Shen trilled and Anakin nodded back frantically. “Yep, yep,” he said. “So look,” and then the two of them were off. Dovra Dinshari scrubbed at his chin thoughtfully. It was only when the three of them had relocated to a table that he’d managed to wave down from one of the wait-staff and when he’d finished off his plate (and perhaps returned for seconds or thirds – he _had_ missed the food of his homeworld) that he bothered to interrupt.

“Would you be able to introduce us to this remarkable droid of yours, Anakin Skywalker?” he said, and Anakin blinked up at him as if having forgotten he was there.

“I-,” he stumbled. “If you can get someone to pick Threepio up from Tatooine, then sure. He’s with my mom at the moment, but if I write her a note then I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Ah,” Dovra blinked. “And why might you be travelling without your mother, young man?”

Anakin hunched his shoulders for a second, before defiance crossed his face. “The Jedi couldn’t buy both of us, so my mom had to stay behind,” he said. He could almost feel the shock of both the beings in the air as they processed this, Tevri-Shen’s wings flapping in distress.

“Slavery?” Dovra breathed in disbelief. Then, “The Outer Rim.” His mouth was tight with distaste and Anakin bristled.

“We didn’t ask to come from there,” he snapped, and Dovra raised a hand.

“Peace, young man,” he said. “Of course you did not, and our reaction is in no way a criticism of you. It is simply – easy, at times, to forget the great amount of privilege that comes with being born into a Republic planet.”

“Oh,” Anakin said. “Okay then.” He paused. “Why do you want to meet Threepio?”

Dovra chuckled. “Anakin Skywalker,” he said solemnly. “Have you ever heard of something called a ‘patent’?”

“Um,” Anakin said, squinting hard. “Only when Watto wanted me to copy something. We – uh, we don’t really _do_ patents in Tatooine.”

“I see,” Dovra said in the tones of one who didn’t quite see. “Well, a patent is something that says people may not make something that you’ve invented without your permission for a number of years after you’ve invented it.”

Anakin’s mouth moved slowly as he thought that through. Did that mean- “So people might want to pay me so they could make my stuff?” he hazarded, and Tevri-Shen chirped enthusiastically. Anakin eyed them both. “Does that mean that _you_ might want to pay me for… for what I’ve done with Threepio?”

“If your remarkable droid works the way that you say it does, then we might want to pay you indeed,” Dovra said. They’d start high-end – the court droids, space port entries perhaps, a couple for the Senate to set a trend for every try-hard nouveau rich… It would have limited applications, but even limited applications could make good money.

Anakin looked at him. “How much?” he asked bluntly, and Dovra’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That might be something we’d need to discuss with your guardian,” he said delicately. “It obviously depends on how it would sell and I’d imagine a fairly limited initial run but perhaps…” he chittered a thought at Tevrin-Shen who tapped their talons together for a moment before chittering back.

“150,000 to start would not be a bad number,” Dovra said and Anakin stared at him.

“150,000 republic credits?” he asked blankly, then paused. He’d have to switch that to trade goods first. “How much is that in platinum?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, instead pulling out a search function on Tevrin-Shen’s datapad and- oh. Oh.

“That would buy my mom and Kitster and Benni and- and another six or seven people,” he said. His heart felt as though it was about to jump out of his throat. Dovra cleared his throat a little roughly.

“Well, perhaps we might be able to find a little extra money than that. And of course, it would be to start,” he said. Anakin looked up at the man and there was nothing but sincerity radiating from him – sincerity and an echo of sympathy that didn’t grate the way it normally did from tourists.

“Okay,” he agreed firmly. “We should do that. I’m not lying about Threepio so I can give you all the details of where to find him and my mom and then we can- we can do that.”

Tevrin-Shen bowed their head to his in long acknowledgement, and Dovra nodded firmly. “Well, let’s find your guardian then – who did you say it was? We’ll settle it with them.”

“I-” Anakin hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess it was Qui-Gon but then he died, and I don’t know if Obi-Wan wants me? Qui-Gon said I was going to be a Jedi and the council said no, but Obi-Wan said that he might, and-” he flailed a little incoherently and then stilled. There was a little bit of tension that had crept into Dovra. “What’s wrong?” he demanded suspiciously, and Dovra stroked at an ear.

“Ah, well,” he said a little awkwardly. “The Jedi are a little – difficult.” Anakin stared up at him. “The order doesn’t permit property, you see,” he explained. “Did you say you were or weren’t a Jedi? If you _are_ then any contract would have to be with the Jedi council, not with you.” He hurried on. “It would then be their decision how they disburse the money. I understand that they take very good care of their members.”

Anakin was very still. “I can’t own anything if I’m a Jedi?” he asked uncertainly. “No one said that.”

“I believe it’s against their beliefs,” Dovra said. “Always seemed a little odd to me, but that’s religion for you.” He harrumphed.

“But,” Anakin said. He looked lost and then his expression firmed. “What if I’m _not_ a Jedi?” he asked. “The council said I was too old to join.”

“Well,” Dovra said slowly. “We’d still need to make a contract with your guardian who I suppose is still a Jedi. We can’t officially make agreements with people who are underage.”

“Padmé could get me a different guardian,” Anakin said. “She’s the Queen, she can do that, right?”

Dovra spluttered a little. “The Queen! Well, I suppose-”

“Good,” Anakin said. “I’ll talk to her about that.” He stared up at Dovra and then over to Tevri-Shen. “I’ve made other stuff too,” he said. “My podrace won the Boonta Classic because of the changes I made to the engines.”

A smile was spreading across Dovra’s face and Anakin felt as though there was something very right in the air at that moment. “Well then, Anakin Skywalker,” he said. “I believe that this might be the start of a very profitable venture for all of us.”


End file.
